An Excuse to get Drunk of an Evening
by MagpieDreamer
Summary: DL MS: Danny and Lindsay get totally, completely and inexcusably drunk in a bar one Tuesday night, much to Mac and Stella's amusement. To what end, you might ask? That would be telling...


**An Excuse to get Drunk of an Evening**

AN: I wrote this between the hours of ten and half midnight last night, in one sitting, in bed, at an hour when I should have been resting my brain for todays Art History exam. But trust Danny and Lindsay to get drunk and then start yammering thirteen to the douzen _inside my head_ when I need to sleep. So, I got this out of my system to stop it destracting me. Leave reviews and enjoy!

Disclaimer: Mac, Stella, Danny and Lindsay don't belong to me (at least, not yet... -evil twitch- today to Art History exam, tomorow _THE WORLD! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA!)_ -achem- the exams aren't getting to me. Promise.

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"You know, Danny," Lindsay said, as if it had only just struck her, "you know what I think?"

"Nope," Danny shook his head, "I never know what you're thinking. You're like this mystery or somethin'. Be a lot easier if you told me some times, you know that?"

"Well that's what I'm doing," Lindsay replied, sounding slightly peeved, "I'm telling you what I – what I'm thinking, because I thought-"

"Yeah, yeah, what do you think?" Danny asked, nodding, then frowning at the curious way this made the room shake.

"I think," Lindsay held up a hand, the paused, "I think… I think I've forgotten what I think."  
Danny snorted and began to laugh, thumping the bar in amusement. Lindsay giggled and nudged his arm, "no! No, I remember! Okay, I remember, right?"

"Whadda you remember?" Danny asked, still grinning.

"I remember what I thought-" Lindsay explained, "I thought – I mean I _think_ – I think you and me… _you and me_, we're actually quite sim… sim… similar people. Yes, that's the right word, right? _Similar_."

Danny snorted again, "you said right twice."

"Danny!" Lindsay was annoyed, "I'm trying to come up with a serious – a _serious_ – hypothesis on our relationship. Stop laughing!"

"Sorry," Danny collected himself and looked contrite.

There was a split second pause, before they both collapsed into fits of hysterical giggles again and slumped over the bar for support.

Mac and Stella glanced at each other.

"How wasted are they?" Stella enquired, one eyebrow raised.

"On a scale of one to ten, ten being the most?" Mac looked at her, "I'd say about a twelve."

"So," Danny began again, as he recovered, "so we have a… we have a _relationship _now?"

"Uh-hu," Lindsay nodded, grinning as she leaned closer, "this is a relationship. It is a _working_ relationship. At work. None of that… that other stuff, you know." She waved a hand vaguely.

"What… um… what other stuff?" Danny attempted to look innocent, making Lindsay giggle again, though this time she looked knowing (or as knowing as someone who's dunk out of their skull on a Tuesday night can do).

"Oh, you know, Danny Messer, you _know_ all about the… uh… the… _other stuff_, you know… don't tell me you don't, 'cause I know… I know all about you and your… um… your other stuff."

"Oh you do, huh?" Danny asked, readjusting his glasses in a way that seemed to Lindsay so comical that she practically collapsed onto his shoulder in an attempt smother yet another giggling fit.

"I do, I do," she told him, firmly, righting herself, "word gets around… place like a lab… you know you can… you can put it right in a little box and it'll get out somehow… they're like rats, they um… they chew their way out and pretty soon_ everybody_ knows."

Now Danny looked confused, "knows what? What do they know?"  
Lindsay stopped and frowned, then put her head down on the bar, "I have _no_ idea."

Danny found this spectacularly funny and began to laugh again.

"In Danny, I find this unsurprising," Mac remarked, leaning back in his chair, observing from his secluded vantage point with Stella at their corner table. "But I never figured Lindsay for the kind of girl who lets herself get drunk this early in the week."

"Eh," Stella made a non-committal sound, "girl's got a crush. She's just following Danny around because she has the hots for him. Besides, the drinking thing? Not much of a shock."

"Really?" Mac raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, come on," Stella threw a peanut into the back of her mouth, "no one's as chipper as Lindsay is _all_ the time. Someone that tied up in her work and _that_ cheerful about it? Gotta be something deeper going on."

"How does a relationship like that _work_, anyway?" Danny demanded, surfacing from his near hysterical spasms of mirth.

"Mmm?" Lindsay asked, downing another mouthful of beer.

"You know, without the other stuff," Danny waved a hand, "a relationship without other stuff beside _relationship_. I never got that."

"Now _that_," Lindsay told him, "_that_ is not surprising, Danny Messer. That is not surprising, like, _at all_."

"What? Why's it not surprising?" Danny looked offended.

"'Cause…" Lindsay shrugged. "I dunno, Messer, you just seem to… you seem to just not _talk_ to women, you know? You just kinda… _flirt_."

"I don't flirt!"

"You're such a liar!"

"I'm not – you know, I'm a lot of things, Montana, but I ain't a li – a liar."

"Liar, liar, pants on fire!"

"Am not!"

"Are too, and you know, it's a sad, sad thing, Danny," Lindsay shook her head, "'cause my Grammie, my Grammie she used to say to me, she used to say, 'Lindsay… Lindsay, the one ship that can never, ever sink, is a _friendship_.' And she was right."

Danny began to laugh again, "oh, that's beautiful, Montana, that's real – that's real beautiful."  
Lindsay collapsed beside him, laughing too, "I know. Haven't heard that in… in _ages_. A long, long time." She giggled into her sleeves.

"Nope," Danny agreed.

"Nope," Lindsay nodded, then shook her head, confused.

"They're almost cute," Stella remarked, sipping her mineral water.

"Sure, if you like wasted and sniggering like a couple of five year olds," Mac shook his head.

"Aww, come on, Mac," Stella gave him a poke, "be a romantic for once."  
Mac shook his head, but smiled.

"'Cause, you," Lindsay continued, firmly trying to sort out her thoughts into a straight line, "_you_ um… you're kinda _cute_, Danny Messer. You are. But, you're also kind of_ annoying_ – because you know you're kinda cute. That's a bad, _bad_ combination. Cute guys _really_ shouldn't know about it."

"You're right," Danny looked contrite, "you're right. 'Cause I _do_ know I am… I am a _good looking_ guy, you know? I mean, I _know_ I am. But I don't see why I gotta be 'shamed of somethin' like that. Some people are just good looking, you know?"

"Mmm, I guess…" Lindsay shrugged, "you are an arrogant man. But – at least… you're honest."

Danny thumped his chest, "I am an _arrogant_ man!" He proclaimed, rather proudly.

Lindsay snorted and began to laugh, pounding the bar with a hand. Danny laughed too.

"But the thing, Montana," he began again, "the thing is – the _thing_ – you see the _thing_ is that you are_ also_ quite good looking, but you are_ not_ an arrogant man."

Lindsay snorted, "I should hope not!"  
Danny blinked, then shook his head, "no – no that wasn't what I meant." He scratched his ear and pushed his glasses up his nose, "okay, I meant that you are a very _nice_ kind of person, whilst still being very – _very_ pretty – very, I might add, because I'm not quite… I'm not quite done yet. And –" He held up a hand to stop her interrupting, "-_and_ – you are very intelligent, which is _extremely_ rare. You are _extremely_ _rare_, Lindsay Munroe. But me… me there are a thousand 'me's out there, 'cause to live in New York you gotta be arrogant. You gotta be. It don't work if you're not. So maybe, _maybe_ we're not as similar as you think."

"Oh, no," Lindsay shook her head, "no, you're not a common person, Danny. You're a… you are the most uniquest person I know. The most. I never met _anyone_ like you."

"That's 'cause you never been to New York before," Danny told her, knowledgably, "trust me, once you been here a year, you'll no a _hundred _guys, just like me."

"No I wont," Lindsay insisted, "No, 'cause, some people, they might _act_ a bit like you, but people, they don't ever come two at a time. You know, even identical_ twins_, they're not identical on the _inside_. Metaphorically speaking."

"Metaphorically?" Danny raised his eyebrows, "oh, metaphoric – _metaphorically_ _speaking_, are we? Right, right. Well then, _metaphorically speaking_, I have to say that, um… that, if you promise not to tell anyone, _anyone_- " wide eyed, Lindsay nodded sincerely. Danny leaned closer to her, his tone conspiratorial, "your eyes are so pretty, if you look at me, and ask me – ask me _anything_, I gotta do it, 'cause your eyes. I'm a sucker for eyes. You got the biggest brown eyes in the whole world."

Lindsay blushed hotly then began giggling again. Danny laughed too.

"Anything?" Lindsay asked, tipping her head at him.

"Yup, yup," Danny nodded.

"_Anything_?" a mischievous smile crept across Lindsay's features.

"Uh-hu."

"Can you…" Lindsay glanced around the room for inspiration, "buy me another drink?"  
Danny shrugged, "oh, I dunno…"

"Come on, Danny, please…" Lindsay knotted her fingers and did her most appealing look, "please, please, _please_…?"

"Ah…" Danny rubbed his head – somewhere through the happy, alcohol-induced stupor in his head, he had the inkling of this being a bad idea, "I dunno… we gotta… we gotta work in the morning."

"Oh, who cares?" Lindsay pouted – God damn she looked hot – "I don't care. I can't care, any more. Never. 'Cause I spend too much time _caring_. Makes me feel sick. Too much blood."

"Got that right," Danny nodded.

Lindsay leant far enough forward to rest her forehead on his chest and look up at him hopefully, "please, please? One more drink? We can go home after that, promise. Promise. One more."

"Ah, jeez, okay," Danny waved her off then patted her shoulder affectionately. He slapped a ten dollar bill down on the bar and called for the barman, "waiter! Waiter my good man! One more for the lady, and one for me, okay? Okay? Same – same as before, okay?"  
The barman rolled his eyes but took the money.

"How many have they had?" Stella asked, looking at Mac in concern.

"I don't know, but I get the feeling that that's enough," Mac replied.

"Time to move in?"

"Let's go."

"Hey Stella!" Lindsay cried, her enthusiasm somewhat off-putting, "you wanna drink? Danny's paying 'cause he likes my eyes."

"You _promised_!" Danny moaned.

"She wont tell," Lindsay waved him aside. Danny glared at her sulkily.

"No, I wont tell," Stella said, "but I think it may be time to get you two in a taxi."

"What?" Lindsay cried, "_no_!"

"We're having _fun_!" Danny was just as distraught.

"Trust me, you'll thank us for this in the morning," Mac took hold of Danny's arm and pulled the younger man from his bar stool. Luckily, the alcohol had sapped most of the resistance from Danny's muscles, or he may well have been drunk enough to attempt to throw a punch at his boss.

"Come on, hon, time for bed," Stella steered Lindsay firmly toward the door.

"Can I go back to Danny's apartment?" Lindsay asked, sounding hopeful.

Stella smothered a laugh, "I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Why not?" Lindsay asked, "we just established, we're really_ very_ similar people. We have a _working relationship_!"

"It can't sink!" Danny cried, enthusiastically thumping his chest.

"No, that's a _friendship_," Lindsay corrected, impatiently.

"Right, right," Danny nodded.

Stella snorted, shaking her head at Mac, who simply raised his eyebrows.

"_We_ have a friendship, right?" Danny asked, suddenly sounding insecure.

"I guess," Lindsay seemed open to the idea.

"I want to be friends," Danny explained, "'cause I like you Lindsay, 'cause you're very, very _nice_."

Lindsay giggled, "I like you too Danny."

"Yes, yes, we all like each other," Stella interrupted, worried about the possible path the conversation was taking, "we'll all be friends for the rest of our lives, okay?"

"Aw, nothing's certain, Stella," Danny waved a hand, "you're a reasonable, sane, rash – rash – rational human being. You know that."

"Why don't you marry Stella, Mac?" Lindsay asked, innocently, "that would be good. All your children would have _lots_ curly hair and be able to handle _catana swords_!"

"Yes, that sounds swell," Mac propped the door open and pushed Danny out of it.

"Besides," Lindsay waved a hand and leaned closer to Mac in much the same conspiratorial way Danny had leaned towards her to tell her he liked her eyes, "_I think she likes you_."

"I'm sure she does," Mac ushered her into the street after Danny.

As soon as they were outside in the cold and the dark, Danny and Lindsay took a turn for the hyper.

Danny began to sing, at the top of his not inconsiderable lungs, "when I was just a little girl-"

"Oh no!" Lindsay cried, covering her ears, and giggling hysterically, "Danny, stop it! You'll destroy the city!"

"_I asked my mother, what will I be?_" Danny roared, ignoring Lindsay. "_Will I pretty, will I be rich_-"

"Here's what she said to me!" Lindsay joined in, grabbing his arm.

"_Key-sarah, Sarah_!" The pair of them lurched off down the street at an alarming speed, their voices loud, lusty and slightly off key.

Mac and Stella, still near the open door of the bar, exchanged glances.

"You take Lindsay," Mac told her, firmly.

"You get Danny," Stella agreed, then paused, one eyebrow quirked, "catana swords?"

"Don't ask," Mac shook his head.

Stella laughed and raced after their escaping drunkards, catching up with them on the street corner, and dragging a protesting Lindsay away from her chosen drinking partner.

"Stel-_la_!"

"Lindsay, I'm only stopping you doing something you'll probably regret in the morning," Stella promised, towing the protesting Montana native to the curb side and flagging down a taxi.

"Bye Lindsay!" Danny cried, sounding somewhere between plastered and deeply mournful, as Mac tugged him off to the other end of the street.

"Bye Danny!" Lindsay waved frantically, "I'll see you tomorrow! Don't forget to be arrogant!"

"I promise!" Danny called, even as Stella calmly but firmly bundled Lindsay into the waiting cab ahead of her.

Danny sniffed, and readjusted his glasses as he settled into the cab next to Mac.

"You okay?" Mac asked, nudging him.

Danny shrugged, "yup, yup. I'm okay. I am _absolutely_ okay. You know, tonight was very, very informative."

"I'm sure."

"But you know, Mac, you know – next time," Danny held up a hand, "next time you want an excuse to sit with Stella in a bar outside of work, you pay _Flack and Hawkes_ to get smashed out of their skulls for three hours, 'kay? This is above and beyond the cool of duty, you know that? _Above and beyond._ You're paying for my new liver."

"I promise," Mac agreed, finding himself smiling slightly.

"And I expect a paid sick day tomorrow. None of your 'suck it up' crap."

"You got it."

"And Lindsay?"

"Her too."

"And we expect your first borns to be named Lindsay and Danny."

"Do _your_ first borns get named Stella and Mac?"

"For the hours you paid us to sit in a bar getting drunk beyond belief so you have an excuse to guilt Stella into playing babysitter with you?"

"Sure. I'm thinking we've made a valuable contribution to the development of your relationship."

"Ah, we'll see."


End file.
